*insert witty disclaimer here*
Remember me? No? Never mind. Here is my favourite chapter so far. But before you read it, please read this..
I need a Beta- not only someone who will proof read (as in someone with better grammar/spelling etc. than me), but also someone I can bounce ideas off. I would like to have one well versed in both Lord of The Rings and also Harry Potter, as I write mostly in that category. Another useful trait would be the ability to nag when I am lazy and don't write! If you are all of this please tell me so in a review or e-mail (pherlaith@hotmail.com). Any help most appreciated.
This fic was abandoned, but is back as people have started reviewing again (why?) so I have added another chapter. I may carry on. I may not. Tis up to you guys.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Encoriel was dreaming. Flashes of the past combined with fears for the future, a bittersweet cocktail of suspense laced with unknown emotions she did not understand. Scenes flashed through her head, mixed with sounds that did not match the images... The Galloping of horses' hoofs on scarred turf, screams of the injured, cold laughter, the songs of children, old legends long forgotten, and then.....
Silence.
Total and absolute.
Horrible, deep, louder than any sound, more enveloping than the densest fog.
It filled her completely, Icy cold. She gasped, the sensation piercing her soul. Her mind went black. Pain was inside her, working from the inside out. She closed her eyes tight to try and escape. A picture started to build, like a spider's web, each delicate filament touching, binding together, yet still so delicate it looked as if it would snap at the slightest touch. She tried not to let her mind touch it, despite the irresistible pull, her pain forgotten. Terrible she knew it was, and yet a thing of beauty. If it was indeed a web, she was the fly, held in place by the deceptive strands, awaiting its doom. It was too late to fight. In her dream, she looked on.
She saw ahead of her a coil of golden rope lying on an expressionless floor, Intricately woven, it looked strong and simple, one end free, the other.... the other a noose... In her dream, she shuddered, averting her gaze, but her eyes were drawn back to the bitter rope, but she was not looking at a rope. It was a serpent. What had been the noose end of the rope was it's foul head. Blood-red eyes glared up at her, it's gaze scorching her. She cried out into the silence, the noise echoing dismally against unseen walls. The serpent hissed, flicking its tail menacingly at her. It started to fade, moving steadily into the distance, but yet not moving at all. Was she the one moving? She looked down at her legs to check, but saw none there, just echoing blackness... She suddenly felt like she was plunging down.
It's not blackness at all she mused. A pinprick of light approached, growing into a room. She saw faces, faces all around, blurred like mere echoes of distant memories, Her mind playing on the memories weakness. She heard sounds- that of dialogue in the common tongue, unlike the room it was loud, clear, definite. Yet, she could not bring herself to understand it. She saw a ring, a simple golden band, surrounded by fire. It melted into a pool of blood, and a dark globule of crystal replaced it, shining, yet with no light emanating forth. She looked into it and saw arrows, blades, chains and burning. Scenes she did not understand, with people she did not know.
The confusion ceased, her mind cleared. She saw a strange party of people walking, on the most part, heavily, as if much thought troubled them (Such is the mortal way), their shoulders hunched as they trudged amongst jagged rocks and sickly turf. There were nine of them, Four small, childlike creatures of a race she did not know, two noble, proud men, and another who resembled a man- old and weather-beaten, but such wisdom and power seemed to emanate from him it could not be-, an elf, and a dwarf. She watched their troubled faces, as they passed one by one. Her eyes kept being drawn back to one of the small ones, but something else dragged her roving eye to the elf, His back now turned to her as he walked elegantly away. He was dressed in green, a rich, dark shade borrowed from nature, A longbow and quiver on his back, the tails of the arrows shrouded by his white-blond hair, blowing in the wind. An unknown feeling swelled in her breast, spilling over and, for a split second, she yearned to follow him. She held her breath tight and the feeling passed. As it did, it took with it the image of the retreating backs.
Another face replaced it, that of her father. Subconsciously, she cringed. His profile swam in and out of focus, as if obscured by a mask of tears she was reluctant to let leave. He was talking, a stern look on his face, eyes stony and cold; "I would have thought the news of your betrothal would come as much rejoiced tidings to you! We have taken a heavy responsibility from your irresponsible shoulders! As Lady of Palewood it is your duty to....." The words faded as another image swam into view as her tears cleared- A dark-haired elf with a set frown and a savagely triumphant, calculating look in his eye. He was gazing after a slender shape, slipping away into the welcome shroud of night. She saw herself, in Palewood, so grim, unsmiling as always, gliding along a passage, head bowed, hands clasped. She saw herself in a stable, warm and peaceful, resting in the deep straw. She saw herself in a room, gazing longingly out of a window. All of these things faded into twilight. A silhouette of a horseback rider appeared over the crest of a hill and halted. She heard the horse neigh, and saw it rear up in excitement and joy. It galloped down the hill, rider bent low, and halted by a tree. It suddenly grew closer and Encoriel saw A masculine figure dismount from the horse, smoothening it's forelock in thanks. He then turned to meet another figure, slight and feminine. The two met in a loving embrace, clasping each other tight, he whispering words Encoriel could not catch into her hair, their arms entwined as they met in a passionate kiss, bodies close, in harmony, as one. Encoriel leaned forward, trying to see their faces, but the picture was fading, she was coming back into consciousness.
Her eyelids fluttered open. She was breathing raggedly, all too aware of the unnaturally fast beating of her heart. The cobwebs of the intoxicating dream started to lift. She felt her heart rate slow down and her breathing become more even and steady. She closed her eyes, thinking back to the dream. It was unlike any she had experienced before. She remembered every last detail so clearly and sharply, every emotion, every face.
She knew little of the events and politics surrounding the Siege of Gondor, which was what she was chiefly concerned with. When she heard news of a battle being fought, she knew that would involve casualties, a lot more than the healers already appointed could deal with. She was a trained healer, though inexperienced, and far yet from perfecting the art, yet she knew much more than others in the subtle art, so knew she would be of use. Of course, that was not her only reason for leaving The Palewood Realm, where she had abided all of her life so far, in fact, it was just an excuse.
The Palewood Realm is a very obscure Elven dwelling, among the oldest, but that is not to say among the greatest. The ways of the elves there greatly differed to the elves from the rest of Middle Earth. Those of Palewood had a beautiful, yet gothic city. It was fair, yet cold and distant and aloof..
Yet Encoriel was not like the other maidens of Palewood. She was stronger, her spirit free, not chained and bound by tradition and duty. Different from the rest of her people, she found herself spending much of her time alone reading and walking.
The news of the problems in the outside world that even reached secluded Palewood at the same time her father announced her betrothal.
Her intended was known to her, but not liked. He was like the most part of the Palewood elves. Dark and secretive. She knew he often watched her. Saying nothing, his eyes filled with more than he could communicate through words. He seemed to her the sort who would rescue a fly from a spider's web, to slowly pull the wings off, before leaving it for dead. After her father had told her of her betrothal to him, she had ran to her room. She had long wanted to run, but had nowhere to go. She knew not much of the world beyond Palewood, and feared it, but death in the wilderness was better than slow suffering with her new hated husband-to-be, she thought as she packed a few meagre possessions into a sack. She had many belongings as meaningless as they were useless, and not needed.
Of her own possessions she took only a comb for her hair, tucked into a pocked of her robe, and some twine to bind her hair. All of her clothes were thoroughly impractical. She took only a thick, mysterious hooded cloak. She then slipped silently into the night, barely any time after her father had told her of her betrothal. She paused briefly in the kitchens, where she took a water skin and a large amount of long-lasting food. She knew vaguely she wanted to travel to Gondor, though she knew not where it was, and that it could be dangerous, so she slipped back into the main house where she stealthily located a knife, being the only weapon she felt she could handle. She would have liked to find a map, but her father, she knew was still in his study. She would have to trust the fates.
She swiftly fled into the night, a brief patch of shadow slipping by. She ran to one of the fields where she knew horses to be kept, and called them to her. Only one answered, a large dark-bay mare with a kind eye. Encoriel asked the Mares permission before leaping lightly onto her back. She had never ridden the mare before but trusted her implicitly. Together, they travelled swiftly from the fields, around the back of Palewood, farther than Encoriel had ever travelled before. A lump of fear built up in her throat as she urged the mare on. The journey to Gondor was terrifying, but full of experiences for Encoriel, as she learned to survive in nature on her own.
She had learned from books how to build traps, which plants were poisonous, and which beasts to avoid. She travelled far, despite the hardships, in the rough direction she knew Gondor to be, and, as she went, found the side of her nature which had been all-but crushed. Her eyes filled with light, and a smile played on her lips. She was happy in the company of Brilnow, as she had named the Mare. They were kindred spirits, alike in nature, swift and gentle and suspicious they soon came to care about each other. The mare had much experience of Middle Earth, and helped to guide her mistress towards her destination.
When Encoriel reached the healing camp, she was wary, but, finding mainly very friendly healers and a lot of work to do, she got on well. Another elf gave her a sword, to protect herself (No one knew about the knife, just in case), and she carried it though she knew not how to use it. She was more confident on her own, as ever, not liking company beyond her horse so often went out to search for the injured alone.
She dragged herself back from her musings by a great feeling of thirst. Noticing the water-skin by the bed, she drank from it, before walking steadily over to the font, carefully removing her garments, and slipping gently in, to rid herself of the clamminess due to her dream. She examined the wound treated the day before by the other elf. She could see the poison had left her. The wound was starting to heal. As she sank back into the calming liquid, she tried to remember the elf that had helped her more clearly. She thought he said his name was Legolas, of a place called Mirkwood that she had never heard of. He had told her she was prisoner of dwarfs, and they would do her no harm. Of his part in this, if he had told her she could not remember. He held a regal air, it seemed a part of him and he seemed to hold power over her she could not place. And his eyes. She feared them most of all. She felt they could read her like a book. She shuddered, not liking the idea of a stranger seeing her soul.
She thought of her mare waiting for her, and hoped she was all right. Her thoughts returned to what to do about her present situation. All she knew was she must survive. She was good at that. Her head emerged from the water. She pushed her wet hair out of her face. I will survive.
When Legolas returned, he found her sitting with her back against the wall, staring at him, awaiting his arrival.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*